


For Sentimental Reasons

by gothicangeltas



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1353076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothicangeltas/pseuds/gothicangeltas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers awakened from the ice, there was one person on his mind. Thanks to Phil Coulson, he discovers where she is. After all, he has a date to keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Sentimental Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post on Tumblr. The song I used is "I Love You for Sentimental Reasons" by Nat King Cole.
> 
> Please note that this was written before Captain America: Winter Soldier came out.

_Peggy…_

_I’m here._

_I’m gonna need a rain-check on that dance._

_All right. A week next Saturday at the Stork Club._

_You got it._

_Eight o’clock on the dot, don’t you dare be late. Understood?_

_You know, I still don’t know how to dance._

_I’ll show you how, just be there._

_We’ll have the band play something slow. (pause) I’d hate to step on your (radio cuts out) ___

_Steve? Steve?? Steve???_

The black Acura pulled into an empty parking space. The engine idled for a long moment, and then he stepped out. Just an average looking man in an average looking dark suit stepping out of an average looking car; nothing to see here. As he walked into Shady Grove retirement home, he pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them in his suit pocket. He signed in at the desk, nodding wordlessly at the receptionist before walking down the hall into the common room. He paused in the doorway, his eyes roaming over those seated around the room. No one looked up when he came in, and no one noticed as he skirted the room before walking out onto the patio.

She sat on a white wicker rocking chair. It was part of a set, one which her grandson had bought for her years ago when she’d first come here. She was still beautiful even though her dark hair had gone mostly grey. There was a dignity about her, but her dark eyes were still as lively and bright as ever.

“Ma’am?”

She turned slightly when he spoke. “Agent Coulson,” she greeted him, “It’s good to see you again.” She extended a slender hand, and he took it, gripping it gently once before letting go. “And what brings you here on this fine day?”

Phil Coulson pulled up one of the matching chairs, and sat beside her. Taking a deep breath, he took her hand in his once more. “I have some…news.”

She sighed, “From that tone, you sound as if someone has died.”

“Far from it, Ma’am,” he said instead. He was quiet for a long moment, and she was about to prod him when he said softly, “We’ve found him.”

_Later…_

Steve Rogers climbed out of the borrowed Acura, closed the door, and stood there, staring at building before him. Coulson had explained that she lived here instead of with her family. Her grandchildren didn’t visit as often as they should, but that was typical of most of the residents. Coulson had admitted that he was a regular visitor, bringing her flowers, spending an hour or two with her.

He straightened his tie, fiddled with the jacket. The suit felt like more of a costume than any of the costumes he’d had to wear during the war. He could almost see his reflection in his black shoes. Swallowing hard, he started walking toward the front door only to pull up short. He jogged back to the car, opened the door, and pulled out the small plastic box. He studied it for a moment before shutting the door and heading into the building.

The receptionist’s mouth dropped open when he walked through the doors. Even if she hadn’t seen him on TV, that whole alien invasion in NY, she would still have caught her breath. He was gorgeous: blond, blue-eyed, and filled out that suit in all the right places.

“Ma’am,” he greeted her, nodding politely. He signed the book as Coulson had told him to. “Where can I find Mrs. Johnson?” he tried not to stumble over the name, but it caught in his throat regardless.

“She’s out on the patio, as usual,” she said, pointing. “Are you family?”

His smile was sad. “An old friend,” he replied.

Steve walked through the main room, nodding when someone noticed him. These people were his true contemporaries. They were born in the same era he had been. They were what he should have been, would have been if things had been different…if Captain America had never existed.

He shook off these thoughts and stopped at the patio doors. His hand trembled as he opened the door.

“You’re late.”

He froze and his eyes slid shut as her voice rolled over him. He’d never forgotten that accent of hers.

“Sorry about that,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, hoping she wouldn’t hear how it cracked, “I got a little tied up.”

He opened his eyes to see her standing next to the rocking chair, one hand resting lightly on the back of the chair. “But you’re here now,” she said breathlessly, her dark eyes shining with tears.

He crossed the patio and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. Her arms slid around him, holding him tightly. She felt so small, so frail against him. He could feel her tears wetting the front of his shirt even as his own tears fell into her hair. “Peggy,” he breathed, struggling between the desire to crush her close and the need to be careful with her.

She clung to him as her tears spent, his name soft on her lips, “Steve, I’ve missed you so. I’ve dreamed of this, of seeing you again.”

“I missed you, too,” he said, voice thick. He pulled back, smiling down into her face.

Peggy made to turn away. “No, don’t…I’m…”

His hand on her chin kept her face turned to his. “Beautiful,” he finished for her, “as beautiful as I remember.” His strong fingers caressed her cheek. He didn’t see the wrinkles that marked the passage of time. He only saw her, the only woman he would truly love. “And if I remember correctly, I owe you a dance.”

Her dark eyes were still shining with tears. “Yes, you do.” She smiled up at him. “And if I recall, I’m supposed to teach you how.”

He smiled back at her. “I think we can figure it out.” He reluctantly let her go, stepped out of her arms, and went over to the table beside the patio doors. He pulled a small device out of his pocket, set it on the table. With the push of a button, soft strains of piano music floated out. “It’s not the Stork Club, but I hope it’ll do.”

“MP3 player?” Peggy asked as he slowly came toward her.

“Something I picked up at S.H.I.E.L.D.,” he replied, opening the small plastic box. “This I got someplace else.” He picked up the corsage, showing it to her. The white orchids were delicate, gently pierced with pearls. “That’s what a guy is supposed to get his date, right?” She nodded, gently running a finger over the petals before he pinned the confection just beneath her collarbone.

“Shall we?” she asked, motioning to the empty patio.

Steve took her hand in his, leading her carefully. Her hand was cool in his, and he squeezed it gently, comfortingly.

The music changed, swelling to surround them with a gentle and slow melody. He guided her, moving slowly with her. Unable to help himself, he sang along, “I love you for sentimental reasons.” Her hand clutched his, and his thumb lightly caressed her hand. “I hope you do believe me, I'll give you my heart.” She nearly stumbled, her breath catching as she tried to speak. He righted her easily, leading her. “I love you, and you alone were meant for me. Please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I think of you every morning, dream of you every night. Darling, I'm never lonely, whenever you are in sight.” His steps slowed so they were barely moving, and he was only holding her in his arms. "I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me, I've given you my heart.”

“Steve…” the words were breathless, full of tears.

“Shhh,” he whispered, holding her closer as he started moving again, gliding around the patio with her in his arms. He sang softly, “I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me, I've given you my heart.” They stood as the music stopped. He leaned down and very gently pressed his lips to hers.

…

Leaves crunched beneath his boots as Steve walked. It was quiet here, peaceful. A fitting place, he supposed. The nearby tree was devoid of leaves, so it offered little shade as he stood there.

The stone was like many others, close to the ground. It was etched with angel’s wings; inscribed with her name, date of birth, date of death. “Beloved mother and grandmother,” it said. His fingers trembled as they traced her name and the word beloved. Tears fell, dropping on the cold stone and on the single orchid he held. He lay the flower at the base of her headstone. “Goodbye Peggy,” he whispered. After a moment, he rose. His eyes caressed the word “beloved” once more before he turned, heading out of the cemetery.

The End


End file.
